The Lost Scroll
by Almandine-Azaleea
Summary: Things fade with the passage of time but there are sides to every legend. A collection of episodes overtaken by mist and myth.
1. Nomenclature

Disclaimer: Inuyasha and all its characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi. I make no profit from the publishing of this story.

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Nomenclature

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When the darkness lifts they are alone.

There is a soft weight in her arms, aches in every fibre of her being, and pride in every corner of her heart.

Golden eyes stare back curiously. Fuzzy down, smooth skin untainted by pigment, delicate ears, powerful grip.

She is content. This which she created, _tangible_ proof of the bond between her and the Dog General.

The miracle of the future. Theirs alone. And they _his_ alone.

The curtains' flutter breaks her musing.

"The boy's name…" the Dog General begins royally, but this is a battle where she will not allow him victory.

She has seen _heart_ in the Dog General, knows well where it leads, and she cannot stand the thought of losing her son, so she speaks in even tones brooking no room for discussion.

"…is _Sesshomaru._ "

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A/N: Hi. I exist. I might even finish my other stories.


	2. Taciturn

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

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 **Taciturn**

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Few are the moments she would embroider on her very heart.

The smile of her mother before she had left.

Her first hunt.

The warmth of strong fingers on her wrist when _they_ had first met.

Her son stirs at her breast and fixes her with a stare akin to annoyance.

In passing she wonders if he can taste her melancholy, then shuffles him lightly and watches him resuming his feeding.

 _Melancholy? Foolish!_

Sesshomaru seems pacified.

 _Hearts are foolish.  
_  
Gold eyes pin her, approving, as though she had finally realised something he had known all along.

 _So is unbridled, blind pride, my son._

His response is a huff, but his eyes respond:

 _A fair consideration_.


	3. Waver

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha.

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 **Waver**

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Her son is quiet but sensitive. He does not fuss. He _disapproves_.

His frowns of displeasure when she interrupts his playing to put him to sleep are adorable.

He also disapproves of that particular adjective being used to describe him.

It becomes her favourite.

He is so _unlike_ his father.

The Dog General is loving and warm, sincere and _loud_.

Sesshomaru's emotions are cloaked in aloofness and silence.

His moods she perceives mostly through shifts in his aura.

He cannot control his aura well yet but he is learning. Fast.

His face already rarely betrays him and she finds herself wishing it would do so more often.

At only ten years of age such masterful control is admirable.

 _Still, he is but a child._

In passing she wonders if she has saved her son's life only to condemn his soul to death.

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Author's Note: I have feels about Sesshomaru's mother! Many many thanks for the reviews~! I really appreciate them! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too!


	4. Impromptu

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. It is perhaps for the best.

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 **Impromptu**

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She is patient.

Older than her mate by several centuries, she has learned the importance of waiting. Observing. Learning.

All in good time.

For the Dog General patience seems difficult at best and impossible at worst.

He is what humans might call impulsive, she thinks in passing.

 _Yes. He lives like he might not see another day._

Accords a decade to what she'd consider for at least three. Accords a century for…she shakes her head dispelling memories.

Her mate's appearance is timely.

She _too_ makes split-second decisions.

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Author's Note: I am so so grateful for everyone reading the story, and even taking time out of their day to write reviews. Much much appreciated!


	5. Darkened

Disclaimer: Don't own Inuyasha but I'm happy to borrow characters from it.

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 **Darkened  
**

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In the muted glow of her oil lamp she watches him rest peacefully.

He is still healing after his latest border defence. Heavy burns mar his beautiful skin.

Poison pushed out by his body is still bubbling in the corners of some of his scars.

He is lucky to be alive. Luckier still to have her as a mate: their countless twinings have greatly heightened his tolerance to poison.

In her mind's eye she sees him kneeling before her, hair and eyes as wild and free as his heart.

 _Return to me!  
_

She leans in, silver spilling, to press her lips to the wound.

He does not stir.

With no reason to hide her gaze she takes in his sleeping form, tries to inscribe every detail into her memory.

His hair is darkened silver. His cheek markings, still vivid against his pale skin, are the colour of forget-me-nots.

A fine-point canine peaks out on one side.

He looks so young.

 _He_ _is_ _so young._

A mere eight, nearly nine centuries.

There is so much time. So much time in the world, and he has had so little.

She sighs softly.

 _So little left_.

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 **Author's Note:** I'm still here, I'm just in the middle of moving. I'll do my best to keep updating. Sorry for not being able to reply to your kind comments individually. They do mean the world though, so thank you all for writing them!


	6. Extreme

General disclaimer: Inuyasha and all characters associated with the series belong to Rumiko Takahashi. I'm just borrowing them temporarily and without incurring any profit.

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 **Extreme**

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The Dog General is passionate. She is subtle.

He is loud. She is quiet.

He laughs openly, uproariously.

She smiles in amusement from behind her fan.

He radiates light and warmth.

She absorbs it; lets it sink into her pores. Warm her core. Her very essence.

His tenderness is not measured. His kisses, unlimited. His heart equally unbound.

She has never…she _will never_ match him full, she knows.

He kisses her strongly, boldly, passionately and she lets the heat overtake her.

It is true that they had been a political union. It is true she had not loved him so well in the beginning.

It is also true that nothing can remain unaltered by the passage of time, not even the stubborn heart of a cynical demoness.

In the darkness she feels the myriad ways she has learned to love him sing through her veins.

She learns more with every breath.

 _Foolish!_

She already knows the end of their tale.

Yet, when his mouth finds hers, when she lets the restraint of her heart and body melt, and faces him equally boldly and nakedly she cannot find it in herself to lament her folly.


	7. Unveil

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. I'm just borrowing some of the characters.

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 **Unveil  
**

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She blinks unfocused eyes.

Sturdy warmth behind her reminds her of her safety.

Coarse silver hair tickles her bare shoulder.

She presses soft kisses onto the arm enveloping her, absentmindedly.

Her welling energy nudges a gentle rumble from her partner.

She responds in kind, to quell his worries.

She thinks she ought to know better by now, that would not work.

Warm eyes seek hers.

Tender kisses land on her upturned mouth, her cheeks and her mark.

She cannot hide the tremor snaking through her, as her eyes close.

"You saw it again."

A nod.

"The peach blossom season has always affected you so."

A sigh.

"I have been neglecting you and Sesshomaru. He is getting less child-like by the day. You must feel lonely."

"You are a good father. Sesshomaru worships you."

A chuckle.

"How did we get to comforting me here? I was trying to comfort you."

His eyes bare his heart as always and she wants to be as open as he is for once.

Words feel like skittish carp in a pond, still she tries.

Brokenly, she recalls sprigs of blossoms, the red, tiered platform.

There are dolls arranged on it, dressed according to rank, in the latest fashions of the human courts.

Women with pale faces and moth-like brows.

Twelve-layered robes, luxurious and regal.

"But the girl isn't."

"No. She wears ill-fitting simple garb. Ragged. Her hair is short. Even for a child."

"Shorn?"

The voice catches in her throat as she whispers what she knows to be the truth.

"Unfed."

He pulls her to his chest, wishing he could ward her from pain.

Powerless to do anything other than offer meagre comfort, he continues his gentle motions.

Before his mind's eye her vision comes to life: lone, hurt girl-child. Encroaching darkness. Unwavering purity. Uniyelding, toothy smile.

A deep breath.

"The doll always falls from the girl's hand. It shatters…and so does she. She dies. The light gone from her eyes is the last moment of the vision."

"Poor child."

His touch lends her the strength she needs.

"My child! Mine!"

It's the merest of whispers but she feels the echoes throughout the room, through both their bodies.

There's so much turbulence in the air that it takes her a few moments to realise that it is all her own energy crackling around them.

Fingers tenderly brush her cheek wiping away tears that cannot fall.

The silence spreads around them.

He does not let go of her for the rest of the night.

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 _Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm still alive. Managing tempests has severely impacted my ability to psychoanalyse fictional characters, but rest assured I still do it, albeit much more slowly. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Happy Hina Matsuri (Girl's Day)! Spring is almost here! I hope you're all safe and happy~_


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